Crystal Restoration
by Epic Dragon Trainer
Summary: Months have passed since Arendelle's flash-freeze. John Callaway, the village blacksmith, is an ordinary kid who stumbles upon some mysterious crystals which have odd effects on both him and Anna. As they try to figure it out, it seems that Hans had returned and is using some crystals on his own, and the weapon could mean the end of Arendelle's rulers.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Several months passed since Arendelle experienced its deep freeze and was revitalized. Queen Elsa was happily ruling the kingdom and was a just queen. She was also an extremely likable person and (according to rumors) fashioned custom made ice clothing to her best friends, which was remarkably warm despite its material. The material was highly sought after by hikers, and Kristoff was a proud owner of a full suit of sparkling blue clothes emblazoned with his symbol of ice master. Anna was extremely happy with the open gates and already made a good handful of friends from the neighboring kingdoms and within her own. Olaf was a favorite of the children and wandered freely around the village, playing with children and generally having a good time. Nothing had been heard of concerning Prince Hans (and good riddance), and the kingdom couldn't have been happier.

This, however, could not exactly be said of the village's blacksmith apprentice, who was charged, along with his master, to reconstruct a large majority of the village's metal objects and structures. The hot and cold flashes had seriously damaged the integrity of most of the steel, so it all had to be replaced. That meant months of grueling work for the pair, in the dead of summer and into fall, and the apprentice, John Callaway, was not pleased.

His master, a large man, especially compared to John's much leaner frame, went by the name of simply Smith, and no one besides his closest associates knew his real name, if he even had one. John had only been working for him for about a year, so he had not been given this luxury. The man, with his callused hands and worn palms, placed his large leather gloves and apron on, grabbed his hammer, and went to work.

John, on the other hand, was very much the opposite. The boy was muscular but very lean, and was dwarfed by Smith to such an extent that he was almost non-existent should someone walk into the shop. Despite his lean size, he was quick on his way to becoming a master craftsman, and was something of a budding inventor. His skills were useful since the blacksmith functioned also as a silversmith, jeweler, tinsmith, and part time dentist. John's small hands were useful for more delicate projects where Smith's hands just got in the way. He was also remarkably intelligent and had already devised several systems to increase the output and quality of the shop's items, including a moving hanging rack and a mechanical stoker.

John was well used to the forge, especially since he had hanging around it since he was about six. Ever since he was little, John had had a massive fascination for the craft, and was drawn to it like a magnet. Now that he was doing all the exhausting work, he was having second thoughts. Nonetheless he loved the work and set to it with a gusto and bravado that was not possessed by many in the village. He worked with such fluidity around and with Smith that the job felt more like an extension of his own body than a task, despite its taxing effort.

That is not to say he did not get bored or tired of it, he did, and whenever he had off, he would go canoeing around the fjord or exploring in the mountains. He was an adventurer, although he preferred to have a home to come back to, and he had explored a lot of the surrounding mountainside, which he had mapped both mentally and roughly in a notebook he always kept on him in his jacket pocket.

His notebook was one of his most prized possessions and was always on him. He kept it in the inside of his leather vest. Underneath his leather vest he wore a green shirt and brown pants. It was by far his favorite outfit and was also blazoned on the shoulder with a small gear and hammer underlined with a golden stripe, the symbol of a blacksmith's apprentice. He had added them himself. It was part of his identity, his passion, his lifestyle. It was part of him.

John was snapped out of his reverie by Smith nearly smacking him in the head with his hammer, one of his signs of "affection" that he showed, and was usually a way of "motivating" the apprentice, who never really needed it.

"Keep working. Unless you want to be repairing old shovels and I-beams for the rest of your life," muttered Smith, in the gruff, mumbled way he always did. Sometimes John wondered if he could actually open his mouth fully or pronounce syllables correctly. His thick accent didn't make it any easier.

"You're in the same boat, you know. We're going to be working on these things till we drop, and there's no way around that. Besides, I'm working faster than you," quipped John, always quick on the uptake of a reply.

"Yeah right. I saw you space out there for a second. I can read you like a book."

"You wish. I bet you a copper I can get more shovels done than you can."

He got around five coppers a week as pay for my work, and Smith took him in "out of the goodness of his heart." Obviously he needed the extra help, and he made more than two crowns a week from his products, so he had no problem paying him a little. A little friendly competition between them was something we did to get me and him motivated and working, usually in the last hour or so of work.

The next hour was a flurry of activity in the shop as they raced around trying to get the most done. John had the advantage of being able to weave in and out of the tight spaces in the shop, but Smith had a stronger hand and could make the shovels faster. They had a bit of a rivalry to see which was better.

After a grueling but rewarding hour of work, John came out on top, with five shovels completed where Smith had managed four and a half. John got his copper and Smith polished up that last shovel and locked up.

Having been exhausted by the work, John went to his favorite spot in the woods to relax, a secluded hollow with a small pond and a few apple trees. He had some small provisions, mostly some fruits and hard breads should he get hungry, and the tree was a bonus. He had his own little cave that he crashed in, with a fire, should it get cold. After the whole flash-freeze business, he was prepared for the worst.

After a small bite, and a little nap, he walked around the hollow a little to clear his mind. He was just tired, and the walk helped him free his mind from distractions. This was not helped, however, by the fact that he discovered two crystals and a note on top of a boulder near the hollow's entrance. The note, written in neat, perfect handwriting (although very large), said, "Give the red crystal to Princess Anna, and keep the blue one for yourself. If you do not trust me, ask Princess Anna to come with you to the troll grove (she'll know what it means), and I will explain all. –Grandpapi Troll"

He was very much intrigued by this note, and who the hell was Grandpapi Troll? Weren't trolls just a wives tale to scare kids? Then again, wasn't magic? He guessed anything was possible. He picked up the blue crystal first, the one the note had told him to take, and right away he felt a tingling sensation throughout his entire body. That tingling rose to a sting, and then a burn, and although he tried to drop it, the warmth and pins kept growing and getting more uncomfortable. After about a minute, the pain died and he was able to drop the crystal, which had lost some if not all of its glow, especially compared to the red one. He wrapped up the crystals in the note and decided to take the items to Elsa and Anna, since they knew the most about these things. He just really hoped whatever that crystal did didn't have any kind of long term effect on him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

John made his way to the gate of the castle from the woods, which was a longer walk than he would have liked. He would have liked it much better if he could just get answers and not have to brood over it for the hour that it took him to get there. It was also getting dark, and despite the fact that the village was quite genial after dark, the forest was not, and wolves and bears (as well as certain monsters if you believed the tales) roamed freely.

He made it back to the village at just around sunset, and most people were closing up shop for the day. Although people had made initiatives to try and create lighting for the village, none were able to do it consistently and easily, so at dark, everyone just turned in. Luckily, in summer, the days where much longer and the children could play longer and get more tired before being forced into bed by their frustrated parents. John could make out a few dancing around in the square, twisting their lithe little bodies away from their relentlessly pursuing parents, screaming at them to get inside. If they were older, they would have been shouting obscenities from here to the North Sea.

John could see some merchant ships leaving the port, and now that the gates were finally opened again, traders were more than eager to get their hands on anything the royalty or the peasants might need. This was, of course, aided by the removal of Weaseltown (or Wesselton if you ask them) as a trade partner due to their involvement in the plot against the queen. Arendelle was a veritable gold mine for merchants, especially due to its larger rich population. There were very few poor in Arendelle.

The sunset was quite beautiful over the water as he approached the palace gates, being attended to by a Scott Jameson, an affable fellow who was an old friend of John's. They practically lived in the same household growing up, so they used to be pretty close. Now that they both worked, him in the army and John in the smithy, they had grown a little apart, but were still good friends.

"Scotty! How's it been?" John asked, giving him a firm handshake that was returned in kind.

"Going good, nice warm night ahead of me. I hope to the queen I don't fall asleep."

I could see what he meant. The night already felt warm and sticky, and I was almost falling asleep myself standing here.

"Can I ask a favor?" John asked. "I need to speak to Queen Elsa and Princess Anna. I'm afraid it's urgent."

He shrugged. "Sorry, but the gates are closed for the evening. No one is allowed in. Especially tonight. Rumor has it there's been a missive from the Southern Isles, and things are kind of tense. Supposedly, they're meeting about it now."

"A missive? What about?"

"No idea. According to some dock hands, it came in on the ship from Kulendelle this morning. You could almost cut through the tension with a knife inside the castle though. I had to bring in some water before and everyone was glancing around nervously, like they were afraid of their own shadow. Weird things have been going on ever since we discovered the queen's power."

"Tell me about it."

It was true. Ever since then, the village and royalty had received numerous threats from some more hostile nations about a witch being on the throne. They were mostly sent back with a polite explanation that was such a perfectly covered insult that reading between some of the lines made it seem so much more offensive that it was hilarious. Elsa had posted one of them, one to a nation in the south, and the village had several laughs over it. Funny as it was, it probably did not make many friends.

There was also the addition of the Crystal Courtyard, and area of the castle much more frequented, especially with the open gates, that was beautifully crafted from pure ice and was open to skating and general lounging all year round. It was great in summer to cool off since the entire court was remarkably cold, despite the oppressive summer heat.

Speaking of the heat, with the addition of the new ice master and deliverer (and Anna's boyfriend), the village could not have been cooler. They were also able to keep food fresher longer, and iceboxes had become a new must-have in the village as ice flowed into the village like, well like water.

"What is it you need to speak to the queen about?" replied Scott.

"That's confidential. It's between me and the queen. A letter I received, actually, that pertains to her."

It wasn't a lie, but then again it wasn't exactly the whole truth, but he didn't need to know that. A little white lie couldn't hurt.

"Well I'm afraid it'll have to wait till morning. If you want, you may be able to catch them before your morning shift. They should be up by then. I could give her your letter direct if you like."

"No thank, I'll hold onto it. It's…personal," he said, hating to keep things from him.

"Have a marvelous night John," he said and waved John off.

Damn it. Now he had to go the entire night not knowing what that letter meant, and the strange crystals which had accompanied it. Reluctantly, he trudged his way home.

His father was one of the village's many bakers, and they lived in the back of the central bakery, located just off the village square. It was a small, quaint little place, but it was perfect for their family of three. Of course, John should start looking for his own place soon, being of the age of manhood, 18. Many kids lived with their parents if they shared the same profession, but John could not abide baking and was apprenticed to the blacksmith. Ever since he had been looking for an apartment and begged Smith to let him use the spare room in the back of the smithy, but so far nothing.

That's not to say he didn't love his parents, he did. It's just that it was the way of life, and that was the way it all worked. John couldn't help it, but he just felt this need to break free and be his own person.

As he approached his house, he could hear his father's smooth voice chatting besides his mother's melodious one. He was a tall, lean man, much like John himself, but with much more muscular arms from kneading bread all day. John was on his was to such massive biceps, but was nowhere near his fathers. He had dark, midnight black hair as compared to John's darker blonde, which were offset by his sparkling green eyes. John's father was a very popular and respectable man in the village, and could know the life story of any man he met with only a few minutes of conversation. If he had more money or the desire to do so, he would have made an extremely successful merchant.

His mother was similar, but not as bold as his father. She was shorter than his six foot stature, but only by a few inches, and she had the strikingly blonde hair which John had some part of. She did a lot of seamstress work as well as working in the bakery, but was more resigned to sit in her chair, knit, and do needlepoint. She was always very polite, and very smart, and had this air of pure confidence and emotion that made most around her calm and tranquil.

John grabbed a small bite from the cupboard before settling down for the night. His parents gave him a slight nod and asked how his day was, which he responded in kind with the usual genial response. John kept the note and crystals tucked into his jacket, and he almost gasped out loud when the blue crystal touched his skin, causing that tingle to come back, but he swallowed the noise and only looked like he had a stomach ache. He changed into his night clothes and settled into his comfortable bed.

His room was neat and put together, with very little decoration besides the occasional figurine or drawing, and was more based on form than function. It was comfortable and familiar, and John loved it all the same.

He drifted off to the thoughts of the bizarre crystals and note, with not an inkling of the wrench it would throw into his life.

**Kudos to anyone who realized that John is based on Hiccup from HTTYD. He is, and I am an avid fan. I love Hiccup as a character model, especially since he is so much like myself, but besides some of his physique (I had to make him a little more fit), and his job, maybe a few of his quirks, that's where the comparison ends. The rest of him is based more upon myself and some of my own musings on who the character should be portrayed as. I'll try to keep the HTTYD references to a minimum in this story, but I just loved Hiccup as a character model and I couldn't resist.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

John woke the next morning refreshed and blissful as the morning sun streamed in through the window at the perfect time, just as it always did. He smiled and rose from his bed, threw on a new shirt and pants, and got ready to start the day. He was perfectly happy, with nothing on his mind to make him apprehensive at all.

Until he saw the note and crystals, and he realized that it hadn't been some kind of weird dream. He groaned and leaned against the door frame, rubbing his temples as it all came rushing back to him. This was one headache that he did not need right now, and he sighed as he slipped the two items into his pocket. He would have to attend to them after work, and he hoped that they wouldn't still be shut it. If they were, John would have to break in. He couldn't bear the stress any more.

He plodded to the forge, and his face was taught and thoughtful. He missed the fact that the sky looked darker that day, and that it was decided colder than it had been recently, with the wind blowing a bit more strongly. He also missed the odd buzzing sensation that could be felt all over his skin, as if pure energy bubbled just beneath the surface. He missed the worried looks of the townspeople as they looked to the sky and shut themselves inside.

He was so lost in thought, in fact, that he almost walked right past the forge and onto the docks. If it wasn't for Smith's booming voice and the sound of the hammer, he might have walked right into the fjord.

"Come on kiddo! Work to do! Wipe that dreamy look off of you face and get your apron!" yelled Smith.

John sighed, grabbed his apron, and got to work. They were making beams today, a repetitious process that did not require a lot of cognitive function, the perfect exercise for one who was lost in thought.

His motions were consistent, repeated patterns that were so exact in nature that he almost fell when Smith dropped a screw in his path. His mind wandered over the crystals, and the many questions he had regarding them.

What could involve both the princess and himself? What were the crystals, and why were they important? Who was Grandpapi Troll? What did the note from the Southern Isles say? What would the queen and princess say when he barged in with the note? Admittedly, the whole thing looked a little sketchy, and he wouldn't blame the queen for not believing him.

All these questions whirled through his mind so fast that he didn't even notice when he went through the motions of forming a beam without any metal in hand. He wouldn't have noticed at all if it hadn't been for Smith's snort of amusement, a noise he only made at John's antics, which made him refocus. Smith was just sitting in the corner, eyeing him strangely.

Embarrassed, he set back to work. But Smith was still eyeing him. Before too long, it came out.

"What's wrong with you, sonny?"

The question so startled John that he dropped the beam he was working on. He so did not want to talk about it, but his quick mind came up with reasonable explanation, one that he knew Smith would like.

"I saw a girl the other day. I can't get her out of my mind," he said, knowing Smith was persistent at getting him hooked up with a girl. John had seen no such girl, but he was good at lying.

Smith raised an eyebrow. "The great John Callaway saw a girl and liked her? Break out the beer, we need a toast for the boy! Did you hook up with her?" he said with a face that was almost embarrassingly funny.

"No! I saw her, nothing more," he said, keeping his head down and his smirk hidden from the Smith. Could he really believe that John could get a girl? The guy was hopelessly nerdy, there was no girl within 1000 miles of Arendele who would want to hook up with him. But Smith didn't need to know that.

"Well, I can't have my apprentice missing a day to get his girl, finally," said Smith. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

John was shocked. This was an unforeseen side effect. Gods, he should have used this trick years ago.

"Thanks Smith! I owe ya!" he yelled as he ran out of the shop.

"No problem! Go get her, champ!"

John was already making up the story about how the girl wasn't interested in him for when he returned.

He ran to the castle gates and saw Scott, who gave him a friendly wave.

"Hey, any chance I could get an audience with the queen now?" he asked as casually as he could while panting.

"I can let you in, but I don't know if you'll get an audience. It's still tight in there. Go on up and see if they'll take you. If they ask, tell him you have my permission."

"Thanks man. I mean it."

John walked into the castle and looked around. He had yet to really explore his way around the central castle, and he was unfamiliar with its layout. He asked a nearby guard for directions, and he pointed John towards a staircase leading to a strong, oaken door, behind which he could hear nothing but the rustling of papers.

He knocked lightly, and the door was opened by none other than Princess Anna herself, who looked surprised to see him there.

"How may I help you?" she asked, as genial as ever.

"May I have a private audience with you and your sister?" he asked, aware of how bizarre it sounded.

"What about?"

John checked the scroll to double check the name. "A note from…Grandpapi Troll?"

Anna raised an eyebrow at this and beckoned him inside. Inside the room he could see Queen Else, decked out in her favorite blue, standing over a table and staring at a note, as well as several maps and diagrams.

"Elsa, this is…what did you say your name was?" Anna asked.

"I didn't. The name's John Callaway, the blacksmith's apprentice, at your service my queen," he said with a slight bow.

"The guy says he got a note from Grandpapi Troll."

Else cocked her head at his. "Who?"

"The leader of the trolls. I took you to meet them last week!"

"Oh. That guy," Elsa said, staring into the distance as if remembering a horrible memory.

"What does it say," asked Anna.

"Read for yourself," said John, laying the crystals and the note on the table.

They both read it and were silent for a minute. They looked at each other for a second and then back at John, almost as if they were sizing him up.

"Well? What does it mean?" asked John.

"I have no idea. The crystals are odd. I've never seen them before," said Else, holding up the blue one and spinning it in the light from the candle.

It was true. The crystals were odd, long and hexagonal like a quartz crystal, but with an inner glow not caused by any other light, and they were so perfect that they could not have been grown. These were cut.

"I know. Should we go see Grandpapi?" asked Anna, reaching for the red one.

She picked it up and immediately cringed. Else looked panicked, and reached for Anna as she tensed up.

"What have you done?!" Else yelled, as she tried to shake Anna out of it. H realized she must be going through the same weird pain he had gone through when he first touched it. Except, she did not look to be taking it nearly as well as he did. Within a minute or two, she fainted, crystal clutched tightly in his grip.

"We need to get to the trolls, now!" yelled Else, rushing out of the room and shouting for Kristoff. John grabbed the blue crystal, and the pain came back, not as strong but definitely present. It made his head buzz and his vision grew blurry. He slipped on a loose floorboard and hit the ground hard, blacking out instantly.


End file.
